


long live the king

by thewalrus_said



Series: Two Spies and a Dog [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:51:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4329228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry awakens to a blinding headache. There are a few seconds where he’s afraid he genuinely has gone blind, but then he blinks twice, thrice, and his vision clears a bit. The pain is so strong that he can do nothing but lie still for a few moments, letting it wash over him and take its due, before pressing the alert button under his right index finger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	long live the king

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. I have zero medical training, and no idea what happens when recovering from a GSW in the face, so I made it up.

Harry wakes to a blinding headache. There are a few seconds where he’s afraid he genuinely has gone blind, but then he blinks twice, thrice, and his vision clears a bit. The pain is so strong that he can do nothing but lie still for a few moments, letting it wash over him and take its due, before pressing the alert button under his right index finger. Nurses are at his side in moments, taking his vitals and speaking to him in soothing voices that grate past the throbbing in his head. He cooperates for as long as he possibly can, and then slides back into unconsciousness.

Harry wakes again to a headache that has been drugged into submission. He can feel it lurking behind his temples, waiting for the painkillers to wear off, but for now he can turn his neck, focus his eyes, take stock of his surroundings. His investigation is brought to an abrupt halt by the looming face of Merlin at his left hand. “Good morning, Harry,” Merlin says, an uncharacteristically large grin spreading across his mouth. “Nice to have you back with us. You’ve been out for a while.”

Merlin won’t tell him exactly how long it’s been, and he won’t tell him where Eggsy is, “not till you’re off judgement-impairing pain medication, my friend. Protocol.” It is protocol, standard Kingsman practice, but it is still incredibly irritating, and Harry tells him so. “Such is the way of things, my friend,” Merlin says. “What I can tell you is that he’ll probably be back before you’re off the meds. Not a spoiler, so to speak, you’ll be on them longer than anyone’s been on mission in Kingsman history.”

“So he’s Kingsman now, then?” Harry asks, manipulating his bed to sit upright. He can’t hope to match wits with Merlin while lying flat on his back. “He was disqualified, I remember that. We fought about it.” He remembers the fight well enough to wonder whether Eggsy is actually on a mission, or has just convinced Merlin to let him hide. He can’t blame him either way; if faced with Eggsy now, Harry might well hide under the covers until he went away.

“Oh, Harry,” Merlin says, his voice suddenly gone soft and pitying. “We do have a lot to catch you up on.”

And catch him up Merlin does. He spends the next hour talking, in fact, and Harry listens closely, both to understand what he says and to find the places where Merlin has edited something out. There aren’t as many of the latter as Harry might have expected - Merlin clearly skips over something about the rescue of the Swedish princess, but the rest is as factual as Merlin is allowed to be. It unsettles Harry more than he likes, and when Merlin comes to a halt, Harry changes the subject. “Was a toast drunk for Arthur?”

“We’ve never had a traitor Arthur killed by a loyal recruit before, so the protocol was left to me to decide. I chose to save the whiskey for someone who deserved it.”

“Quite right.” Harry wants to thump his head back against the pillow, but he can’t strain his neck enough to lift his bandage-swaddled skull, so he knocks his fist against the rail instead. “Damn. I knew he was a snob, but how did we miss the eugenicist tendencies?”

“Never thought to look for them,” Merlin says. “Doesn’t usually come up in gentlemanly circles these days, to my understanding. Now, I can see the nurses making threatening gestures, so I think I’m to let you rest now. I’ll come back tomorrow, want me to bring you anything?”

“Reading material,” Harry says. “A detailed report on Eggsy’s whereabouts and personal security would be preferred. The novel I left on my bedside is acceptable.” Merlin looks at him, so determinedly nonjudgmental that he mightn't have bothered hiding it in the first place, and leaves.

He returns the next day with the novel in question, both in Harry’s hardback and an audiobook version, “in case your eyes get tired but your brain doesn’t,” Merlin explains. He then pulls out a laptop and sets to work on some project or other, propping his feet up on Harry’s bed. Harry stares at him for a moment, then opens the novel to where his bookmark is still tucked between two pages.

It’s another three weeks before Merlin gets around to asking him the standard questions posed to any head injury sufferer. Harry had’s them a thousand times and one from the nurses in the first few days, so he’s grateful enough for the respite to answer honestly. “I seem to have retained about eighty percent of my memories of the whole saga.” Merlin raises an eyebrow, and Harry elaborates. “I remember shouting at Eggsy, although I’ve lost a bit off the beginning. I remember the flight, that godawful sermon, I remember realizing that I’d killed God knows how many people. I remember being shot in the face,” Harry adds, more quietly. “I wouldn’t have expected it, but I have a memory of watching the bullet deflect off the glasses frame.”

“There’s a notch in your frames just above the -”

“The right eye,” Harry says. “Yes. I’ve lost most of the fight itself, and I don’t remember leaving the building. I’ve got a blank from standing up to being shot.”

“That’s interesting,” Merlin says after a pause. “You’ve lost part of your spat with Eggsy, as though it part of the event of your shooting. Most wouldn’t consider them related. I wouldn’t. I don’t think he would. Not that I’ve spoken with him about it, to be perfectly honest, maybe he would. But anyway, it’s interesting.”

“I do have a psychiatrist who visits me three times a day,” Harry says, dry as a bone. “You needn’t put yourself out in this way. Brain hacking isn’t your specialty.”

“That was one time, and the mission succeeded anyway, it’s time you let it go. He didn’t bite you that hard.” Harry frowns at him. He still has the scar on his ankle. Merlin sees his expression and moves on. “Now, I’m glad we’ve got this conversation out of the way, because there’s another one I need to have with you. Well, there are several, but the subject of one of them is about twenty-five hours from beating down your door, so it’s rather more urgent.”

“Shut up and talk, then.”

“Eggsy’s mission is ending,” Merlin says, blunt as a hammer, and Harry feels his heart drop at the same time excitement leapt in his stomach. It’s all rather conflicting and leaves him with a knot in his throat.

“What’s that got to do with me?” he decides on, after a moment’s thought.

“What do you - oh, good god, Harry, you pathetic bastard. In thirteen hours he’ll be on a plane back home with Lancelot. They’re going to land, get a few hours’ sleep, and then I’ll tell them you’re alive and he’ll come tearing to you so fast the ground’ll be scorched, I expect.”

“He thinks I’m dead,” Harry says. “You didn’t tell him I’d survived.”

“No one told me you were alive until after the Valentine mission, Arthur was in charge of your retrieval. After everything that happened in the bunker, I didn’t want to give him false hope in case you didn’t wake up, or you did wake up but you weren’t yourself,” Merlin replies. “And then when you rose from the dead, as it were, I didn’t tell him for fear he’d abandon his mission and come back. He’s a good agent, but no one’s that good. I couldn’t ask it of him.”

The logic is impeccable. Doesn’t mean Harry likes it. “He won’t thank you for that.”

“No one thanks us for anything, Hart. We’re Kingsman.” Merlin stands. “The angry nurse with the very long tourniquet is waving it at me, so I’m going to flee for my life. Twenty-five hours, Harry,” he adds as he leaves. “Maybe less.”

Harry wakes twenty-seven hours later. Eggsy’s curled up in Merlin’s usual chair, fiddling with his phone. “Texting updates on my condition to Roxy?” Harry asks, lifting his bed to let him sit up. “Or have I got a live Twitter feed?”

Eggsy’s eyes start but the rest of him remains still, Kingsman training evident in the relaxed lines of his body. “Solitaire,” he says, stowing the phone. “Figured you wouldn’t appreciate someone spying on you while you slept.”

“Quite right.” Eggsy looks tired, like he’s several weeks, even a month or two, out from his last proper night’s sleep. He’s also clearly been crying. “I’ve enough people staring at me through screens and windows here.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Eggsy blanches and rearranges himself, planting his feet on the floor as though preparing for a quick flight from the room. “Look, I know you’ve got a lot of shit ahead of you, and you’re tired and all that, and you don’t need me here crying and begging for, for absolution or some shit.” He’s practically vibrating, either to throw himself on Harry’s mercy or flee the room Harry isn’t sure. “ I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry I let you down, I won’t do it again, and I’m really, really glad you’re alive.”

He stands to leave, and Harry is sufficiently drawn out of his own desire to start emoting everywhere to say, “Eggsy, dear boy, do sit down and stop martyring yourself.”

Eggsy sits. Harry says, “I was recently shot in the face. I have no intention of maintaining a grudge over your refusal to do the same to your dog. What say we forget the whole thing and never speak of it again?”

It’s only when Eggsy looks him in the eye that Harry realizes the boy’s been avoiding his gaze, talking to his hand or just above his head. “Deal,” Eggsy says, extending a hand. “Shake on it?”

They shake on it, carefully so as not to yank out any of Harry’s IVs. Eggsy’s finally beaming, the smile Harry’s been waiting for, and if his hand doesn’t quite leave Harry’s as he lowers it to the bed again, well, Harry’s not inclined to comment on it. “What’s your codename?” he asks, to keep himself from wrapping his fingers around Eggsy’s wrist.

“Gawain,” Eggsy says, shifting his chair closer to the bed. “Merlin offered me Galahad, but I told him where he could shove that idea and he let me pick my own. Fair few openings after the whole mass head-explosion thing.”

“Why Gawain? That isn’t one of our usual complement.”

Eggsy flushes. “Cause he got to the end of his quest and he failed. Felt fitting.”

“He was forgiven.”

“Exactly.” Harry knows he’s staring at Eggsy, and it must be too much, because the boy coughs and changes the subject. “Anyway, I got Mum away from Dean, put her and the baby up in the new house. I’m bunking with Rox.”

“Not with your family?”

“Nah,” Eggsy says, scooting the chair even closer so he can lean back and leave his fingers twined with Harry’s. “Tried it for a week, but I got used to living without ‘em, and they got used to living without me. See them a lot, but everything’s smoother this way.”

“Good.” Harry looks down at their hands, and then up at Eggsy’s face. “How have you been?”

“Shit,” Eggsy say, so frankly that it makes Harry want to smile. He doesn’t, and the impulse dies down as Eggsy keeps talking. “Apparently, once you’ve met Harry Hart, you can’t get by without him. Or at least,” he adds, dropping his eyes, “that’s how it is for me.”

“Well, luckily for you, reports of my death were somewhat, if perhaps not greatly, exaggerated.” Eggsy grins at him, and Harry lets his own smile out for the first time in god knows how long. “Now fill me in on what’s been happening at Kingsman. Merlin won’t tell me anything, he keeps insisting he doesn’t want to overtax me.”

\----------

Things start moving faster, or maybe it just seems faster now that Harry’s no longer waiting for Eggsy. He moves to a rehabilitation facility and starts physical therapy, Merlin’s sardonic barbs of encouragement and Eggsy’s steady hands doing more good than the exercises themselves, in Harry’s opinion; he finally hears the story of Princess Tilde’s rescue - “Aphrodisiacs in the air, Merlin says, some sort of repopulation thing,” Eggsy explains around a full-face flush; and the last of the bandages around Harry’s head finally come off.

Eggsy insists that the doctor wait until he’s there, and when the last strip of gauze comes off, he lets out a low whistle. “Fucking hell, Harry.”

“Is it that bad?” Harry swings his legs off the bed and hobbles to the bathroom mirror to look.

“Nah. ‘S good,” Eggsy calls after him. “Suits you.” Harry ignores him and flicks the light on to see for himself.

It isn’t bad at all, he decides after the dissonance has died down. It’ll be partly hidden when his glasses are on, and a decent chunk of length will be covered by his hair if that grows back. “Is your vanity satisfied?” Eggsy yells to him, making him smile, which disguises the scar even more.

“Never,” he says, turning the light off and returning to his bed. The doctor’s gone, leaving Eggsy with a pile of instructions on wound and scar care that he’s flipping through. “Have you been left in charge of my upkeep?” Harry asks, sitting down again.

“It ain’t like you’re gonna do it.” Eggsy winks at him.

Harry’s stomach flips over for the fifth time that day. One side effect of being shot in the head is that Harry’s started reacting to Eggsy’s teasing like a schoolboy with a crush, and he’s had about enough of it. “I’m going to kiss you in a moment,” he says. Eggsy’s eyebrows shoot up and he flushes. It’s adorable. “Unless you have any objections?” Harry adds.

“Uh, I - no, no objections,” Eggsy stammers, and Harry leans forward and kisses him. Eggsy’s left off a hat today, so Harry is free to put a hand on the back of his neck, push his fingers into Eggsy’s hair.

Even with the warning, Eggsy takes a second to adjust, and then he pushes back into Harry, one hand in his collar and the other landing on a knee. Harry isn’t quite sure which knee. He doesn’t much care.

They’re in a thoroughly compromising position when the nurse comes to throw Eggsy out - Harry’s sitting up against his pillows, Eggsy straddling him so they can snog without anyone’s neck cramping or leg falling asleep. Eggsy kisses Harry goodbye, grinning against his mouth, and texts him from down the hallway. _nurse just hi fived me. you’re apparently a ‘stone-cold fox'. go me._

_Damn right_ , Harry replies, and then a minute later, _You’re not so bad yourself, you know._

_;)_

\----------

Eggsy’s curled up next to Harry on the bed three days later, some terrible program that neither of them are paying attention to on the television, when Merlin barges in. “Christ, my eyes,” he yells, slapping a hand over his face. “Tell me when you’re decent.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes at Harry and flops onto his back, tugging his shirt down and taking Harry’s hand. “Knocking, Merlin, you yell about it enough.”

“My mistake.” Merlin drops his hand and takes a seat in the chair next to the bed. “I’m making an executive decision to spring you today, Harry. Kingsman’s getting you a part-time nurse, and you’re going home.”

Harry almost starts crying with relief; next to him, Eggsy says, “Thank fuck, this place is depressing,” and squeezes Harry’s hand.

“The arrangements are being made now. In the meantime, we need to discuss your future at Kingsman,” Merlin goes on, suddenly businesslike.

“Shall I go see about the paperwork, then?” Eggsy asks, sitting up. “Sounds like a conversation I shouldn’t be here for.”

“No, sit, this concerns you too.” Merlin gestures, and once Eggsy’s settled again he turns to Harry. “Harry, I want you on as Arthur.”

Harry nods. “I figured as much. I won’t be much use as a field agent anymore, and you hadn’t said anything about retirement plans. It makes sense.”

“This gonna be a problem?” Eggsy raises their joined hands. Harry flashes him a smile, grateful for his bluntness.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you both about.” Merlin sits back. “Technically, you’re in under the wire. Ever since the first female agent came on board in 1976, there’s been a rule on the books against relationships between Arthur and any other agent, unless the relationship is grandfathered in.”

“So we’re fine, then?” Eggsy asks.

Merlin nods. “Strictly speaking, everything’s fine, assuming Harry accepts the position.”

“I do,” Harry says. There isn’t a future for him in Kingsman as Galahad anymore, and he’s not giving up the career he spent the past thirty years building. If that means sitting at the head of the table instead of in the field, he’ll take it.

“Excellent. There’ll be some papers to sign to get you instated officially, but we can do that once you’re settled back home. In light of the very young nature of this grandfathered relationship, however, I do want to stress that any appearance of favoritism will not be tolerated, and neither will the putting of a mission at risk due to personal ties.” Merlin catches Harry’s eye. “Understood?” Harry gives a sharp nod. “Eggsy?”

“Yeah, understood.”

Merlin stands. “Then I’m off to find you a wheelchair to get you out of his hellhole. Everyone do try to keep all clothes on in my absence.”

As soon as the door closes Eggsy turns to Harry. “Can I please strip down for when he gets back?”

“The idea has appeal,” Harry murmurs. “Still, I think you’d best save it for home. I’m not in the mood to share you.” Eggsy flushes and his eyes go dark, and Harry kisses him until Merlin comes back.

Merlin won’t let Eggsy push the wheelchair, and he won’t let Harry leave under his own power. Harry communicates his displeasure by holding Eggsy’s hand the entire time, forcing Merlin to maneuver around them every time they turn around. Merlin brings the wheelchair to such an abrupt halt outside that Harry is almost flung out of it.

Eduard beams brighter than Harry has ever seen him, when he steps out to open the car door. “Good to see you again, sir!”

Harry grins. “Good to be seen by someone other than these two or a medical professional.” Eggsy slides in from the other side, taking the middle seat and winking at Eduard over Harry’s shoulder. Merlin helps himself to the passenger seat, immediately opening his laptop and saying, “Let’s take him home, shall we?”

As soon as they’ve left the hospital grounds Eggsy drops his head onto Harry’s shoulder. “Wake me when we get there,” he says, and is asleep almost instantly.

“Has he not been sleeping well?” Harry asks the car at large. Upon closer inspection, the boy’s face is a little ragged around the edges. Harry’s been spending his time too close to said face to notice.

“He’s been taking the night shifts, so to speak. Everything that needs doing outside of your visiting hours.” Merlin pulls up several windows on his laptop and then twists, passing it back to Harry.

“I’ve been wondering how Kingsman’s been getting on with what sounds like one of the very few surviving agents constantly at my bedside.” Harry moves his arm a bit out from under Eggsy’s shoulder and settles the laptop on his knees. “From what I hear, we’re horribly short-staffed.”

“Aside from Lancelot, we managed to keep Percival, Kay, and Tristan. Bedivere and Ector lost their heads, shall we say, when we took Valentine down, and Bors was killed in the fighting in Italy.”

“And Pellinore?”

“Heart attack two days after the fighting died down. Unrelated, as far as we can tell.”

“We’re not going to have time for a proper recruitment,” Harry muses, flipping through the files open on the laptop.

“No, indeed, we’ll need to take some shortcuts." Merlin clicks something on his watch, and a spreadsheet opens in front of Harry’s eyes. “I’ve taken the liberty of assembling some candidates for your approval. Included is every candidate still in fighting condition from the recent Lancelot interviews, as well as those remaining from the top four after Bedivere’s retirement in 1997 and Kay’s invalidation in 2006.”

“Excellent work, Merlin.” Harry flips through a few more files. “How’s the tech side?”

“Took some solid hits, especially our German and Canadian branches, but recruitment’s well under way. I’m not too worried about them.”

“I’ll trust your judgement there. Where are the remaining agents?”

“Kay’s in East Germany, but he bounces around Europe where needed, I’ve put him in touch with every government I could get ahold of. Lancelot’s in the White House now, undercover as a PR guru to make sure everything stays calm there. Egypt requested a hand, so I sent Tristan, he seemed the least likely to pull a white-savior routine, and Percival’s in Sweden helping Tilde get that mess sorted out.”

“Leaving Gawain here.”

“Yes.” Merlin meets Harry’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “That seemed prudent.”

“Did you wait to ask me to be Arthur until he and I started a relationship?” Harry asks, because why the hell not. Merlin just raises an eyebrow at his reflection and pulls out his tablet. Harry smiles and spends the rest of the trip prioritizing the candidate list.

Harry wakes Eggsy up when Eduard drops Merlin off. Merlin’s left Harry his laptop for the night, and Eggsy blinks awake and watches while Harry works for the last fifteen minutes of the drive. The sun’s dropped below the horizon by the time Harry’s in his own kitchen again, and Eggsy makes dinner while Harry showers.

Eggsy’s thrown together a simple pasta dish, but it’s heaven compared to the food Harry’s been eating since waking up, and it’s gone faster than any meal he’s ever had before. “Leave it,” Harry says, when Eggsy stands to start the washing-up, and tugs him back by the belt loop. “More important things to do.”

It takes rather longer than Harry anticipates to make it to the bedroom - he finds he can’t help but take advantage of how willing Eggsy is to be pressed against every wall along the way - but they make it there eventually. Eggsy obligingly slides off his shirt when the door shuts behind him, which is delightful in many ways, but not the way Harry had hoped. “Damn,” he says, frowning at his crotch. “I thought getting out of that place would do the trick.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” Eggsy says, and splays himself out across Harry’s duvet. Erection or not, there’s really no other option but for Harry to follow.

A fair few more layers get shed before Eggsy pulls his mouth from Harry’s hip and presses it to Harry’s mouth. “‘Bout time I took myself off to the bathroom,” he murmurs.

“Nonsense,” Harry replies, and slides down Eggsy’s body. The muffled shout and moan he gets in reply is the most gratifying sound he’s heard in some time.

Eggsy sleeps with his nose pressed into Harry’s shoulder and his knees touching Harry’s thighs. Harry runs a hand down Eggsy’s arm, letting it rest at the curve of Eggsy’s hip, and drifts off.


End file.
